Through the Ages
by sjwong3
Summary: AU. They say in time, the pain will fade away but as centuries pass, Ulquiorra begs to differ.


**Title **Through the Ages

**Warning **historical inaccuracy, sloppy plot, oocness, unbeta-ed

**Disclaimer **I don't own Bleach, quite sadly.

* * *

_"Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end." – Germaine De Stael_

* * *

**08:46 October 8 2009**

_How long has it been? Minutes? Or perhaps hours?_ Time ceased to hold any meaningful significance. It only served to shroud the truth, nothing more. It was a temporary safe haven, a brief flicker of illusion to ease the pain. The silence did nothing but accentuate the gravity of reality and the pristine white walls did not lighten the mourning.

His eyes were shut, a refusal to acknowledge the truth. Why would he, when he was a creature transcending the very foundations of human understanding. To him, the impossible was non-existent, death merely followed by reincarnation. Trust no one … but only what your eyes perceive. This philosophy, of which his entire life centred upon, was never challenged until she came along. His ideology was from then on, challenged by that woman and her reasoning in the existence of the 'heart.' He was fazed by how something intangible and invisible to the eye could possibly exist. What was this 'heart' she spoke of? Before long, her light had penetrated the darkness and pried away his mask. Even now, he couldn't believe the absurdity of it. He had allowed a simple human slip past his defences and he had offered no resistance. He had committed the one sin he had deemed the epitome of eternal disgrace. _He had bared his soul to her. _He should have felt disgusted and weak. Yet, he felt no such thing. For the first time, he had felt something unfamiliar, something of the unknown. And it had felt … exhilarating.

Simply existing with time gave him no purpose. Nothing intrigued him, his unreadable green orbs remained impassive. Emptiness surrounded him, engulfing him completely as he lay in wait for something, _anything_ worthy of his attention. He began to lose hope as the chances of something catching his interest after so long dwindled. Millenniums would past and still, his interest would never linger more than a moment. Until now.

Long finger weaved through the long wavy locks, as if to imprint the hair's soft texture in mind. A few minutes would tick by and she would remain unmoving. The cries of raw agony echoed in the room when the dark haired man perched over the edge of the chair buried his face into his shaking hands and gave in to despair. _Her brother. _His emerald eyes slid to the orange-haired teen behind him who was clenching his fist tightly. _A close friend. _And if he recalled correctly … _Kurosaki Ichigo. _Further back were several more, some struggling to hold back tears, others already given in.

Her tresses, once a luscious orange was now dull and lifeless. He palmed her cool cheek, the sickly palor of her skin just a tone darker than his own. He remembered how those cheeks were once a rosy pink under his gaze and how her warm brown eyes sparkled with excitement at even the simplest of gestures.

Had his impiety muffled her mortal essence? Was he the _cause_ of her death?

His fingers ran down the curve of her cheek lightly, as if to mirror his own tear marks. There was no warmth, only coldness within. His mind was uncomprehensive to the action as it came to him almost unconsciously. Deep inside the expanse of the hollowness, he truly felt the intensity of the emptiness and the darkness it encompassed. It was like a part of him was missing, incomplete. Now, he was at loss of what to do … unsure of how to proceed.

The woman had spoken of this feeling. It was 'an emotion humans tended to feel during the loss of companionship.' Was this _loneliness_? He did not know, but he dared not to deny it.

For once, his interest was piqued but it would forever remain insatiable. There were so many questions but he would have no answers to them, not now and not ever.

* * *

**1654 Edo Japan**

_Pain. That was all she felt when the water consumed her, caging her in. The burning in her throat stung as she clutched at the water, begging for air. The liquid simply slid between her fingers and she continued to sink lower and lower. The light above her grew further and further away, shrinking to a mere speck. She was going to die. She could feel her lungs straining with the effort to support her and her heart slowing down. Her body has given up on her. Hope was lost. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could hold onto and pray for life. No one would possibly hear her from here. He had deceived her. He had been after her inheritance all this time. She had told her mother and father again and again but they wouldn't listen. Aizen Sousuke, the bachelor her parents had chosen. He looked no older than twenty despite being almost fifteen years her senior. Ensnared in his shrewdness, the Inoue family was unsuspecting of his true nature. One moment of vulnerability was all it took for the sly serpent to attack. Ripping the throats out of its prey, the serpent relishes in its plunder._

_And now, falling deeper into the endless sea of abyss Orihime prayed for naught. Nothing was left to wish for, to live for. It was over. Aizen had won when he thrusted her over the cliff. As her tresses fluttered around her, she pulled her kimono around her shivering frame. All that was left was for God to claim her eternally. The pain would fade and her worries would drown away. Falling into unconsciousness, Orihime felt her body loosen and relax. Before her eyes closed completely, she caught a glimpse of forest green in the distance._

…

Ulquiorra felt her before he saw her motionless form. The water rushed in to slow her fall as he glided for her. A hand supporting her back and the other snaking under her knees, he kept her close and soared for the surface. The frosty winds of the winter dawn greeted him when he climbed out of the crashing waves. Cradling her head carefully, he made his way to a secluded cave he had spotted during his arrival. She was too cold. Her parted lips breathed icy air into his chest, making him shiver slightly. The faint howling of the winds called out to him, beckoning him into their arctic depths.

He felt something cold touch his arm. His eyes slid to exposed limb and watched as the snowflake melted. He looked up to the sky and saw a blanket of white cascading towards him unhurriedly. Blackened trees stemmed from the barren land as young rabbits hid in their burrows. Widening his strides, Ulquiorra cursed at his attire, which clung to his skin like glue. Not only was the material soaking wet, the two layered kimono weighed him down and restricted his movements. When he eventually arrived at the entrance of the cavern, he nearly sighed in relief as the warmth of the fire welcomed him. Having gathered logs and lit it beforehand, he stepped around the various rocks that littered the stone floor and laid her unconscious form near it. Leaning into a small boulder next to her, Ulquiorra ran a hand through his mattered hair. Water trickled down his neck and into his kimono.

He took this time to observe her attentively. The sickly pallor of her ashen skin would recover into a healthier tone in a day at most, the lack of movement under her eyelids meant that she wouldn't awake for at least half a day and that splatter of purple that garnished the inner of her wrists… The bruise was horrendous. The tight grip that had enclosed its hand around the frail, slender joint had been unforgiving. The deep punctures of nail marks aligned the fair complexion of the appendage. The dark colouring of the contusion suggested its recency. Even without further inspection, Ulquiorra knew that that was the sole injury she had been afflicted with.

For the past month dressed as a samurai, he had observed her carefully and trailed her every step. When he had discovered her current location, Ulquiorra had immediately taken flight. For days, he watched her reluctantly dining with the brown-haired man her parents had insisted her to marry. He watched as she begged for her parents to see the truth, that the man was not who they thought he was. They paid her no mind, and now they lay sprawled across the blood-drenched tatami mat with their throats slit. Their daughter, once promised a marriage of love was now on the verge of death. Her pulse fluttered with uncertainty at the crossroads. The death reaper waited, with its sharpened scythe posed over her naked neck.

The trusted son-in-law now had the complete Inoue fortune in grasp as the people whispered behind closed doors, the ill-fated death of the last of the Inoues.

He pondered with indecision. How should he proceed? If he left her here where the man would sink his claws in her, she would not live. He couldn't stay for any longer … time was running out, the sand nearing the end of its journey in its hourglass.

He laid a palm over her sweating brow. No, he couldn't leave her. She would die before her time ended. He was given no choice. Waving a hand through the air, he turned as the garganta ripped through the dimensions with a screech. Lifting her with ease, Ulquiorra stepped into the darkness and vanished without a trace.

He would take her to a place no one would dare set foot in.

He would take her to Hueco Mundo.

* * *

**1851 Victorian England**

The sun ascended the cloudless sky as peachy hues painted the midnight sapphire. In the Inoue manor, the servants have been up almost two hours ago but the masters were still in deep slumber. Just as the last of their dreams faded, they awoke to a new dawn.

"My lady, will you be venturing out today?"

Orihime smiled to her personal maid, Tatsuki who she had known since childhood. Growing up together, they had a bond unparalleled to any other. Without speaking aloud, they understood each other perfectly. Unalike to the typically formal master-and-servant relationship her parents have adopted, the Inoue princess preferred an intimate and attentive relationship with Tatsuki. Since youth, they kept nothing from the other. Secrets were not a part of their friendship. Staring deeply into those honest blue eyes, Orihime smiled tenderly before giggling a 'hai!' Today was the opening of the Great Exhibition and it was a day of celebration, of art and culture. The Inoue family and their fellow royals would be attending, along with the Queen and her husband. The knowledge of the sovereign's visit to the showcase was no surprise but for Orihime, a loyal supporter of social equity and morality just had to meet the author of her favourite novels, Charlotte Brontë. There was a fervent longing on her face as she cradled her chin with her gloved hands and looked out the window. The city was already hustling with mothers shopping with their daughters and fathers teaching their sons the art of the blacksmith. The forest green of the distant hills reflected the sunlight, giving its woodlands a mysterious aura. The morning lark spread its golden wings and took off with the wind. The baby birds overhead chirped eagerly almost in frustration, reflecting her own feelings.

She was not permitted to attend. As punishment for skipping her etiquette and piano lessons, Orihime was grounded and forbade from leaving the manor. She sighed deeply. The lessons, albeit practical offered no entertainment. The teachers her mother hired were cold and austere, their stern eyes warding off her bubbly personality. When she accidentally misplaced her foot by an inch, the teacher slapped her backside remorselessly. The dignified and conventional classes left her melancholy and hoping for an extra chilli scone with carrot. So one day, she had sneaked off to the markets and stayed there for several hours before returning home rejuvenated. What awaited her arrival was both a lengthy lecture on the recklessness of her actions and the promise of eternal house arrest until the day of her fated marriage.

Even though the prospect of being banned from leaving the manor saddened her, she didn't regret it. She had always been an obedient child, never infringing on the wishes of her parents. At times, her compliance had left her exploited, especially in regard to money. Once, when a little girl had dropped her ice cream on the ground, Orihime had kneeled to comfort the lamenting child. She ended up having her purse stolen! She was completely taken by surprise and she was left gaping at the fleeing back of the perpetrator. Tatsuki had immediately taken off after the child but even with her money back, she felt contrite for letting her guard down.

The people she'd met, her friends and even Tatsuki said that her heart was too soft and that she was too easily susceptible to other's ill-intent. It was true, but over the years she has embraced this quality and turned it from a weakness to a strength. There was good in everyone, that was what she believed.

Her eyes slid shut. She couldn't meet Charlotte Brontë. The situation was beginning to dawn on her. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she was going to miss it just because of some punishment! Maybe she could try and convince her mother to let her go. Just this one time. She bolted upright. It might just work! But then, she would be heavily monitored by her parent's men. They would follow her everywhere, even to the lavatory! Also, her parents have made clear their objection to the feminist movement, which included Charlotte and her literature. They would never let Orihime come within a ten metre radius of her. She sunk back into her seat, the remaining of her hope seized by the imps and locked away from her reach.

How could she without the awareness of her parents, meet Charlotte Brontë? She placed a finger to her cheek and furrowed her brow, deep in thought. Well, suppose she could sneak ou–

Orihime leaped up from her chair, nearly knocking over the expensive furniture in the process and slam her palms onto the table. That's it! She could sneak out of the manor and into the exhibition! None one would know, besides Tatsuki. On the way, she could enjoy the festivities that accompanied the public display.

Bouncing up from her chair, she wandered over to her wardrobe with an outfit in mind.

…

Cold. As the sky darkened and gave way to the merciless rain, Ulquiorra tilted his head back and let the thick drops of moisture drown his senses. He was tired though his tensed broad shoulders indicated otherwise. He seemed unaffected by the cold, his stance casual and aloof despite the sheer iciness of the wind making his normally bleached skin take on an even ghostly pale tone. His bare arms hung nonchalantly by his sides as his wings retracted and folded itself gracefully behind his back. As he strolled down the street of London, he paid no mind to the people bustling around him, eager to pack their stores and retreat to the warm comforts of their homes. A little boy took off with a run, heading his way. When the child, constantly looking behind his back drew near, Ulquiorra did nothing to alter his route but instead let the child eventually walk into him. Except, he didn't. The little boy walked right pass him, seemingly pass through his taller form. As he continued to walk, his steps silent and unhurried, the people didn't even spare him a glance. Imperceptible to the mortal eye, Ulquiorra was able to freely roam the human world without having to concern himself with trivial things like being seen.

…

Running her fingers down the smooth silky material, Orihime smiled wistfully. She had initially intended to wear this to the exhibit... The coral petals of blossomed roses decorated the sides of the gold satin dress. The neckline of the magnificent gown hung off the shoulders slightly with layers of lace spiralling the edges. With a solid bodice, the dress splayed outward from the waist down. It was truly a beautiful article of clothing, fitting for the finest of occasions. Lifting away her fingers, she shut the closet quietly and rested her head against the hard wood. Her parents had left an hour ago with her brother, Sora who smiled to her apologetically before climbing into the clarence.

"You should leave now, my lady," a hushed voice came from her left. The sun had long disappeared from the horizon, the light of the evening moon illuminating the mirthful city. Orihime could hear the roars of laughter from the festive fair. Her eyes were drawn to the radiant lanterns that seemed to usher her closer and closer to the joyful celebrations of the people. As a child, she never rejoiced in the simple festivals of the lower class. Years would flow by and she would still sit by her window side, yearning to be there laughing and dancing with them. And now, that supposedly unreachable star glittering in the night sky would finally be within grasp. Tonight, she could be one of them, simply enjoying the night without a care.

Turning towards her friend, Orihime nodded. "Will you stay here in case mother and father return early?"

When a hesitant look fleeted across Tatsuki's face, Orihime immediately lowered her head. "I'm sorry Tatsuki! I promise I'll bring back a gift!" With her long hair cascaded over her face, she didn't see the flash of guilt across the other's face.

"I'm sorry, Orihime. I didn't mean it that way," she scratched her cheek uncomfortably. "I guess I'm just ... worried. You know with all the perverts out ther–" She faltered when a speck of orange clouded her vision and thin arms wounded around her neck.

Embracing her friend tightly, Orihime breathed with relieved tears streaming down her face, "thank you, thank you Tatsuki ..."

She had left not long after with her onyx cloak concealing all her body but her flushed face. With her hood over her salient amber-orange locks, Orihime waved goodbye to her purple haired friend. As she shut the gate to the manor and looked towards the blinding light before her, Orihime let a genuine smile dance across her lips for the first time in months.

…

It was a glorious sight. After the light drizzle subsided, the city had come alive almost in an instant. Waves of people gathered in the centre of the city and danced as one. Joining their small hands, young girls and boys skipped in a circle with carefree smiles while clusters of women lifted their skirts and pranced to and fro. Some men danced, but most retreated to the sidelines and watched with light hearts as their women glided under the star lit dome. This joyous occasion was accompanied by the chanting of the people over the drumming of pots and pans. With the sharing of bread and beer, the commoners laughed with delight as the moon rose higher and higher above them. For this night, they would throw aside their worries for tomorrow's meals and forget that they are the poor and needy. For now, they would revel in their fleeting joy and free the reins of their hearts.

Stepping vigilantly around the drunk fallen men, whom the god of dreams, Morpheus had long ensnared into his promise of mirth and indulgence, Orihime pulled her cloak closer to her shivering body as a gust of wind whipped at her face. As the night fell, the temperature dropped at an alarming rate so when an old lady offered her a mug brimming with beer, she almost snatched for it in haste. Only the lifelong civility her adamant parents had drilled into her since she could walk stopped her form chugging it down. Lifting the mug to her frozen lips, Orhime sipped at it gingerly. As the warm soothing liquid slid down her throat, she sighed in pleasure. Thanking the old lady, she make her way closer to the mass of people still dancing and howling with glee. As she neared, a young lady no older than herself stepped in front of her and laid out a palm, as if offering her to join them. The smiles decorating their glowing faces made Orihime want to take the outstretched hand and dance the night away. And so she did.

Grasping the hard-bitten hand toughened from years of labour, Orihime noticed just how different her life was as she was spun and twisted around, the throng of girls raising their arms in the air in unison. She knew nothing of the lives that entailed these strong-willed women and she was oblivious to the horrors they have faced. How different could the lives of two people residing in the same region be? For the first time, it became clear to her.

When consecutive bangs filled the air, Orihime immediately clasped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. When bright red penetrated her closed lids, she peeked open one eye. It was magnificent. The sight of reds and blues along with greens and whites splayed over the darkened sky was breathtaking. The canvas of colours seemed to light the already brightened city as fireworks leaped into the midnight. The sparks fell from the sky as the ground was ablaze with specks of rainbow.

Orihime, enraptured by the stunning spectacle did not hear the screams of anguish until a moment too late. As some of the sparks struck at her, she gasped in horror before ripping the blistering material from her and fleeing from the open. Her arms stung but she didn't stop to examine the severity of it. Having reached a blackened alleyway, she halted to catch her breath. Never had she ran so fast and so far before. It was beginning to dawn on her just how far a person could go in desperation. Straightening, Orihime ran her palms over the sides of her arms and grimaced when she felt holes in the material. She wasn't fast enough to wrench the robe of her in time to save her dress underneath. Touching a reddened mark on her exposed skin, she flinched slightly when she felt pain up her limb. _Mother is going to kill me when she finds out… _She could always make up an excuse like a bird's dropping falling onto her and burned her skin … but that wouldn't explain why she was outside. If she admitted to sneaking out of the manor, they would lock her up for sure and she would never see daylight ever again!

Crossing her arms over her chest, Orihime jiggled in the cold. Walking in the direction she was certain would eventually lead her to the Inoue manor, she sighed heavily. Thinking about how miserable the situation was made the thought of food appealing. Maybe she could ask Tatsuki to cook her something … maybe chilli and sour cream on doughnut. She licked her dry lips. Maybe she could have some hot chocolate after …

_Crack._

The sound of a stick snapping in half made Orihime stiffen. Her heart skipped a beat when she shifted her head to the side to look behind her. In her peripheral vision, she spied faint movement. When it stepped out of the shadow, she had to clasp a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry of dread. It was a man. Hid rugged clothes hung off his plump figure loosely as his unkempt beards hid his suggestive smirks. The slur of the man's movements and the unsteady steps … he was intoxicated, his mind unperceptive to his surroundings. His eyes, though unfocused were trained onto her. Shudders wracked her body as his gaze sharpened and lowered. Orihime instantly bolted, the concerns of her punishment being possible imprisonment withdrew to the back of her mind as she dashed ahead. Her instincts urged her to run, run and run. Her tired legs wobbled when she stumbled, threatening to buckle under her weight. Running blindly in the dark, she willed her senses to stay alert. Turning into an alleyway, she tripped and fell onto her knees, her dress tearing in the process. Ignoring the red that had already blossomed on her palms, she pushed herself up and was ready to sprint again when she realised it was a dead-end. At her moment of distraction, she didn't hear him just behind her until she felt a force slam into her. Collapsing onto the muddy ground, Orihime kicked to wrestle her way away but to no avail. Thick sweaty fingers tugged at her hair painfully and jerked her head back in one swift motion. A hand twisted her arm back and she felt the world spinning when her face was slammed against the icy cold ground. With an arm free, she swung her elbow back blindly. She heard a grunt when it connected and felt the grip in her hair loosen. Compelling her legs to heed by her commands, Orihime scrambled forward briskly to flee when she felt a clammy hand on her breast. A scream erupted from her throat and into the silent night.

...

His head snapped up at the sound of her scream. The pure agony in it sent colonies of bats scurrying for their caves. His emerald eyes lifted to the crescent moon aloft before his coal-black wings unfurled. Taking flight, he disappeared from the watchful eye of the celestial beings above in a flurry of feathers. The scent of blood, a strong metallic tinge assaulted his senses as he landed silently atop a roof. He glanced at his silhouette thrown across the moonlit ground. The shadow was that of a demon … though it was of a human's body, it had bat-like wings and a cat's tail. His clawed fingers were sharp and lethal, capable of decapitation with a swipe. His long ebony hair fell past his shoulders, the long strands rustling with the light breeze.

He found her, fighting and shoving at the exploring hands of the drunkard. Breathing in deeply, Ulquiorra unleashed his reiatsu.

…

Orihime felt the hand slide down her thigh and then she couldn't breathe. The air seemed to have grown denser and heavier in a matter of seconds, pushing down on her with immense strength. Frozen with fear, she panicked when she couldn't move. She felt the air curl around her, closing her in. The hand disappeared and the man flew across the air, as if an invisible force had shoved him. Slamming into the brick wall, he slid to the ground barely conscious.

His eyes snapped open and he stared up into nothing. Gradually, he began to shake uncontrollably. His lips quivered and he paled, as his gaze remained fixated somewhere above her. She felt the presence behind her, a foreboding yet welcoming ambience. Her pulse raced as Orihime slowly turned around, cradling her left arm.

She froze when she saw him.

The horns that jutted out from atop his head were shaped like two deadly daggers. The dark fur that coated his legs and arms seemed to blend in with the inky black of the sky behind him. The slight tilt of his lips was the only window to his mind, his face expressionless and indifferent. But only one thing took her breath away, his eyes. The thick lines of black appeared to spill out of the abysses. Ivory slits rimmed by a sea of jade, the intensity of his gaze never left her as he spoke.

"Leave." His voice was soft but it still carried an air of silent authority, an unquestionable command. He radiated a somber and crestfallen grief, like he had no desire to live. The absolute despair that enveloped him made Orihime want to reach out and embrace him. She wanted soothe his stern features and shield him from the horrors of the world.

The feeling bubbling inside her was akin to protectiveness … but why? She has never met him before yet his _abnormal _attributes seemed to draw her in rather than petrify her. It was perplexing. He seemed familiar, someone from the past but she has no memories of him. This stranger and the mystery he concealed mesmerized her. Who was he?

She had tuned out. It was the only explanation. She vaguely remembered the drunkard scrambling off on his knees, his eyes wide with fear. And then, the figure was less than ten feet away from her. On instinct, her muscles tensed and she shot up. She debated whether to run but her curiosity got the better of her. She stayed.

His talons curled as he extended a hand towards her, testing her reaction. She gulped when he took another step. Then another. There were merely inches between them. His arm raised, Ulquiorra touched her frosty cheeks gently. She remained still, adrenaline coursing through her veins. He retracted his hand before bringing it in front of her face.

"Aren't you scared of me, woman?"

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, "no, why should I be?" Her tone was sincere as she smiled hesitantly. Why should she be scared? After all, if he wanted to hurt her he wouldn't have saved her. At such a proximate distance, he could easily twist her neck without anyone knowing. Yet, he remained unconcerned about her fleeing, almost apathetic.

He seemed satisfied with her answer as he persisted on silence.

Orihime almost jumped when something slithered up her leg. His long tail flickered up and caressed her playfully. She giggled when his tail climbed higher. Squirming and writhing, she nearly fell if not for the hand that shot out to steady her. His grip, though firm and unyielding tightened momentarily before loosening slightly. Moments past and he continued to grasp onto her arm, he realized that he was _afraid_. He was scared that she would disappear right before his eyes … that he would lose her again. Long ago, this emotion would have been foreign to Ulquiorra.

"S-stranger-san?" He blinked at the sound of her tentative voice.

His fingers twitched. No, he couldn't. He stared into the warm chocolate brown eyes and the tenderness reflected in them. The woman didn't belong there. She wouldn't survive. She would wither with age. He couldn't.

He was losing control. The temptation was too great, swaying him like a pendulum. He pulled his hand back abruptly, as if she had stung him. Ignoring her bewilderment, he turned away.

"Remember …"

Orihime stared at his back, bemused. _Remember?_

Without a backward glance he sunk back into the shadows, his pinions fading with the wind.

_Remember._

* * *

**1497 Renaissance Italy**

It was a time of change. The world as it emerges from the dusk of the Dark Ages reborn into a flourish of literature, medicine and philosophy. As art thrived on patronage and the printing press was invented, the city of Florence prospered with intense cultural leaps and bounds. Led by the Medici family, the city of flowers was the subject of jealously and admiration among the other Italian cities. As the power of God's Bank grew, so did the Medicis' enemies. The Pazzi, a rival banking family lay in wait for the right time to bring down the Medicis. When an assassination attempt failed to eliminate the city's stronghold, Lorenzo de' Medici mourned his brother's death. The Pazzi retreated, never to be heard of again. As another wave of danger passed, another came rushing in with eager.

While most Florentines accepted Lorenzo's rule and the power he held, some openly objected with how he was slowly changing the ways of the Christian religion. This eventually led to an explosion of disarray and the public burning of the books, cosmetics and art.

A bonfire of the vanities.

That was when he first saw her. As Renaissance paintings, deemed as a sin to the human soul were hurled into the scorching flames, a dark haired man stood aloof from the cheering crowds. Shadows danced across their faces as they raised their hands in earnest. They bellowed as one, a thunderous roar of a beast while the cloaked men pushed the women towards the crimson red ruthlessly. The women, lined one behind another neared the burning flares, some cried out and begged for mercy. None were given.

His attention was directed to a single recipient. Her long auburn curls framed her roseate cheeks, her back unbending. She adorned a simple white dress, the sleeves fell to her elbows with her feet left bare. There were no tears in her eyes, no signs of fear but the slight quiver of her lips. _Strong_. The woman's will was unbreakable. Even in the midst of upheaval, she remained collected and placid. Her head looking straight ahead with her chin tilted up defiantly, she ignored the pointed stares. She truly was different from the other women. His lips curved up, almost undetectable. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment when she turned her face towards him, isolating him from the rest. As he stood unmoving like a statue, he noticed her hazel eyes were free of reserve. He could see flickers of doubt, confusion yet there were hints of resistance reflected in her unnerving gaze. Was it accidental? She couldn't have possibly seen him. Ulquiorra had taken caution to conceal his presence. A normal human would never be able to sense him. Yet the woman has defied this notion. His features remained blank even when his frustration surfaced. What was she?

It seemed like no one minded the intense heat. They appeared to be unaware of the sweltering humidity as everyone lingered for the display with fervor. When it eventually came, the screams of torment and horror were reverberant in the open air.

Hidden behind parades of hailing, Ulquiorra watched as she leapt and welcomed the flames with awaiting arms. The men broke into applause when the last of the vanities perished. The inferno was ablaze with incentive as ribbons of smoke swirled up to meet the lamenting heavens.

* * *

**1836 Romantic Period**

She would have missed him if it weren't for her brother. Sora had been reciting one of Shakespeare's sonnets when he halted suddenly, his attention drifting awry. Her brother had steered her impatiently away from the flock of children and led her into the forest. She had been confused but curious as she was ushered deeper into the looming woodland. The hanging branches parted to reveal a rushing river that bordered the two lands. Endless galleons of clear blue fell from a mountainous waterfall as the scaled fish danced with the streaming azure. Overhead, doves hovered in flocks as the sun glimmered. Everything was healthy, alive. It was beautiful.

Across the river was the land of the Arrancar. Governed by the Espada, Las Noches was on the verge of decay. Birds no longer sung and the flowers refused to blossom. The great expanse of the poisoned land was tainting the sky overlooking its maturation. A blanket of dust coated the infertile land, obscuring the glances of life. It has fallen, beyond the possibilities of recovery, the rotting smell of death was everywhere. Only on the fringes of Las Noches, nearing the bank of the river was still withholding the portal of demise.

It was there where she caught sight of him.

She wanted to go closer, to reach out her fingers to touch the serenity he exuded but she was dithering. She was afraid it would shatter in pieces and it would all be a delusion, merely a 'trick of the light.' His figure laid unmoving on the edge of the rivulet, his back resting lightly against the thick trunk of the blooming tree behind him. Garbed in a snowy white tail coat, his long legs were crossed with his body angled away from her. With his eyes closed, the man appeared to be asleep. Next to him was his top hat and golden cane.

However, Orihime was not drawn to those everyday objects. Instead, she was captivated by the piece of paper that stood on the easel a metre away. It was a painting. The extraordinary shades of green that were splayed across the page were astonishing. It was a vivid portrayal of the landscape she was standing on. It had to have been painted just then as Orihime could see the drips of paint that blotched the strands of grass below. She had been so bewitched by the beauty depicted in the artwork that she didn't notice the pair of virescent orbs slipping open.

'_It's rare to see such talent these days,' _she thought as she directed her eyes away from the painting and to the painter himself. That was when his head turned to her direction, his verdant orbs bore into hers with overwhelming intensity. His eyes were a queer shade of green … a green she has never seen before, not even in the pine trees of nature's forests. They seemed to hum with life despite the unexpressive despair that lingered on its surface. It was a mask, a blindfold to shield himself from pain. Underneath the omniscience, he was dwelling in the depths of agony, alone. Just one glance and she could just tell. Her heart ached. '_With one touch, I want to wash away all your sorrows.' _He gave off an illusion of solitude with detachment swimming in his dismal eyes. They were dull and lifeless as tears of emerald spilled down his angular face.

She couldn't avert her eyes. They were glued onto his with unbelievable strength. Time seemed to slow as the trance locked her in. As her eyes skimmed over his features, she realized he was eerily beautiful. Contrary to the charming blonde haired princes that bowed at their feet, this man was different. He upheld a dignified air of pride and confidence, unalike the beguiled who lived off the royals' money. His allure intrigued her. Who was this man? She could feel the pull towards him grow more urgent ever second. Was this … attraction?

So engrossed in her thoughts, Orihime didn't perceive her brother calling out to her until a hand waved vigorously in front of her face. On instinct, she jerked back in surprise.

She blinked, then smiled apologetically. "Ah sorry! Yes, Sora?" Giggling lightly, she waited until after her brother chided her kindly before turning back to the man only to find him gone. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Where did he go?

Ignoring her brother's protests, she lifted her skirt and ran across the river to the other side. She managed to stay mostly dry, with the water only reaching knee deep. Scrambling towards the empty fields, Orihime frantically spun in a circle. He really was gone, having vanished before her eyes. All that was left was his artwork, laying innocently on the grassy meadow.

…

The moon, a pearl white sphere peered over the misty wisps. Orihime sighed as she laid in bed. She had returned home not long after, devastated. He had been on her mind ever since. It couldn't have been a figure of her imagination, the painting was more than enough evidence. He had seemed so real and so familiar … she had seen him before. But where? Where could she have possibly seen a man of Las Noches? She rarely visited the borders, preferring the landscape her own country had to offer. Baffled, she could only pray for light to be shed with the dawning of a new morning as she pulled the covers closer to her.

The canvas she had hung earlier on the creamy-coloured walls hovered above her sleeping form. Eclipsed by the darkness, no one witnessed the autumn trees fade in hues of orange and into the silhouette of a young woman.

* * *

_"I would __rather spend one lifetime with you_ than face all the Ages of this world alone." - Arwen

* * *

**19:32 October 7 2009**

The sun was setting. Another day has gone and passed away. The powerful scent of disinfectant filled her nose as she took a shaky breath. The constant beep of the machines reminded her the weakness of her body. The colourless ceiling reflected the sullen atmosphere. Pushing up her elbows, Orihime struggled to sit up. Collapsing onto the pillow, she panted with exertion. Her limbs were at uncomfortably angles as she propped her head up. Her head rolled back and remained still for a long time. Eventually the door clicked open and her friends came in with forced smiles. It made her feel guilty … to cause them so much pain. She was unworthy of their concern, of their affections. She nodded wearily to their stories and smiled weakly at their attempts of jest. When it was time to go, they embraced her tightly. That would mark the last time she ever saw them.

She didn't have any regrets. She had been an obedient daughter, a loving sister and a caring friend. She had listened to what others said with intent, imprinting all the details, both trivial and important in mind. She gave her input when required and she tried to be the best person she could. She had lived a 'normal' life … until he stepped into her life. From that day onward, her life had changed. For better or worst - it was yet to be determined. He had shown her that under all the layers of lies and deceit, there were flickers of truth. He had revealed to her the reality of the world, that it was imperfect and unfair. Cruelty existed on every adjoining street and justice was a gift to be cherished, not to be taken for granted. And she, in turn conveyed her love for the people around her through her heart. She showed him devotion and compassion, taught him selflessness, the idea of giving more than taking. The nights spent conversing under the waning moon were memories she would keep close to her heart.

At one time, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window. She wouldn't have recognized herself, if not for the pure shock that was etched clearly on both her and the reflection's faces. Every feature screamed sickness. Her skin clung feebly to her bones that were morbidly pronounced. Her cheeks sunk into her jaw, illness long claimed her baby-faced. Even her clothes which had once fitted her snugly, now curtained her frail body. She was so appalled that she had nearly swung a vase into the window.

And now, as she lay there with her damp auburn hair spilled around the pillow, her heart yearned for only one person. She waited earnestly for his return. Long after visiting hours ended, he appeared in the doorway. Her eyes, which had begun to droop, snapped open immediately. There was a surge of relief within her as he strolled in nonchalantly with his hands tucked into his pockets. His pace, never slowing and never quickening calmed her. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she reached flimsily for his face. She missed. Instead, her hand grabbed at empty air. She could feel her eyesight failing her. The outlines of shapes blurred into one as colours merged. She blinked to try to clear her vision, but to no avail.

Orihime felt a hand squeeze her arm and move down to intertwine with her fingers. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. It was rare for him to initiate contact. Almost unconsciously, moisture dampened her cheeks. She would miss him. Leaving him seemed almost heartless.

A bony hand cupped her cheeks almost tenderly and wiped at her tears. "Look at me, woman." His pitch, never wavering assured her and she clung to it.

She didn't want to. Her brows furrowed. She couldn't bear to burden him with her distress. There was evident exhaustion in his voice … was he frustrated with her? Opening her eyes, she refused to look him in the eye. With her head hung low, her clenched fists shook. His hand shot out to grab her chin. She would not deny him propriety.

Forced to look at him, Orihime felt more tears threatening to spill. His grip loosened until only the tips of his fingers touched her skin. His unyielding verdant orbs fastened on her wide ones.

"Don't cry," Ulquiorra whispered bluntly. With his free hand, he fingered a lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear.

Leaning in, his face hovered over her startled features. "It is unsightly," placing his lips on the corner of her slack ones, Ulquiorra kissed her one last time.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed it & thanks for reading! :)_


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